


I want to destroy you

by wordsinpaper



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge [2]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinpaper/pseuds/wordsinpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Oliver has a weird piece of art that bothers Connor so much, he does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want to destroy you

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "accusation". The way I see it, I had two options: go the sad, heart-breaking way, or aim for a lighter, more fun and silly thing. I chose the latter, because why not?

That thing was ugly.

No, you don’t understand. It was _awful_. Granted, he doesn’t really get art the way most people do, but he’s pretty sure that was an unfortunate accident that happened under someone’s hands.

Someone’s very drunk and disturbed hands.

The fact that Oliver even thought it was okay to put it on that one shelf in the living room next to _nice_ things also proves to him that this dude is something special. And that doesn’t only apply to the good sense of the word.

But, seriously, what is that even? Is it supposed to be like that, leaning to the left?

He tilts his head to try and look at it from a different angle, but it just gets worse.

Is it a masterpiece gone wrong? Is it supposed to represent something? Or just meant to be thought provoking? Very angry thought provoking? Because that’s what Connor is feeling right now just looking at it.

And that’s the worst part, you know? He can’t escape it. It’s placed in such a strategic point that can be seen from every inch of this apartment, apart from the bathroom – blessed be.

There’s no trying to escape it if you’re in the living room, obviously. And the kitchen area is right there, in plain sight.

So is the bed he’s currently sitting on, sadly.

Oliver is showering when something breaks inside him.

He knows it’s stupid and irrational, but he wants to _attack_ it, _hurt_ it, and _destroy_ it beyond recognition. Not that there’s much to recognize there, really.

They say that in order for a piece of art to be good or even great, no matter the form it takes, it should reach deep inside you, make you feel something _because_ of it, and maybe even _for_ it.

He’s feeling, alright! He’s feeling so much that, before he knows it, he’s punched that damn thing to the floor and watched it break into many sad-looking pieces. But – hey – the anger is gone now!

Except now he has to explain this.

Shit.

Not even after being crushed to million pieces that damn thing leaves him alone.

When Oliver returns from the bathroom, smelling oh so good, is to find Connor looking at it with a grimace and scratching his chin.

“What did you do?”

Connor turns around, startled.

“I – nothing! It… fell.”

Oliver’s raised eyebrows tell him he’s having none of it.

“What, it moved on its own legs and decided to jump off the shelf?”

Connor shrugs.

“I can’t blame it, really, I mean, did you look at that thing?”

Oliver’s jaw drops.

“You broke it on purpose!”

“I did no such thing. Besides, it doesn’t even matter anymore,” he says, and walks up to Oliver, his signature smirk on his face. “There’s so many other things I want to do…”

“Stop trying to distract me with sex. I am not you,” he says, pushing him away and putting a stop to his advances.

“Then you stop accusing me of something without proof,” he says, admittedly, in a fairly childish way. “Also, remember that one time you closed the door on my face only to open it again and pull me inside–”

He puts his hand up to stop him.

“Got it. I got it. But still, Connor, my mom gave me that!”

Now it’s Connor’s turn to look shocked.

“She did not! That horrendous thing? She wouldn’t…”

“How would you know?”

“She didn’t.” A pause, uncertain. “Did she?” he adds in a small voice.

“No… but she could have!”

Connor can only roll his eyes at that.

“How would you be able to sleep at night knowing what you’ve done, if that were the case?” the other man insists.

“I’m pretty sure you’d blow my mind away from any thoughts related to… _that_ ,” he tries, going for his hips. This time Oliver lets him.

“Always so smooth, huh, Connor?”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Connor says in a low raspy voice.

“In fact,” Oliver starts, and puts some distance between them. “I’m not having it _any_ way right now. Why would you do that?”

Connor rolls his head and faces the dark shattered pieces again.

“Oh, come on, Oliver! That thing just makes no sense, okay? And it sits there, looking all harmless, but it’s got the perfect view to your whole apartment.”

“Perfect view? What? You know that’s an inanimate object, right?”

“And– and it’s just… it’s not right! It was all crooked and looked like it was sat wrong.” He pauses to pick up its intact face, or what he thinks is supposed to be a face. “Look at this! It didn’t even break! And it doesn’t even go with the rest of its body! How could you even put that weird-looking thing next to that beautifully–”

“Connor, you just broke something because you couldn’t _comprehend_ its meaning.”

He lets the head drop – still not breaking – and throws his hands in the air in frustration.

“How does that mean anything at all?! And it was an accident!”

“It was so not – you know what? Just– just tell me: are you going to destroy every single thing in this place that you don’t find aesthetically pleasing?”

Connor frowns at that.

“What? No! You know it’s not because of that–”

“Because I need to know. I don’t want to wake up one day and wonder if I’ve been robbed over night or something,” Oliver says, as if it was an actual possibility. Connor rolls his eyes again.

“Don’t be dramatic. As if someone would want to steal that _thing_ …”

“Hey, stop that! It wasn’t that bad…” he finishes, his voice taking on a different tone now.

Connor pauses to study him. He doesn’t look that bothered by it. He decides to test a theory.

“You know what? I think I got it. I get that it wasn’t your mother who gave you that, but I bet it was someone you couldn’t refuse, no matter how _wrong_ it looked. And! I bet you tried to rid yourself of it before, but you never actually managed to succeed.”

“What are you doing? What is all of this right now?”

“I’m showing you that you’re full of shit. You’re trying to pin this one on me, but that distorted figure had it coming a long time ago. You wanted this all along! You’re not even angry; not really.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” he tries to deflect. And, oh boy, does Connor have him cornered now. “You’re just mad you can’t seem to understand it. And stop using your law on me.”

“Oh, my… I’m actually right! You totally wanted this thing gone!” he exclaims, excitedly pointing a finger at Oliver’s face. Promptly removed by the man himself.

“I just think that it doesn’t go quite well with the color of my walls, that’s all,” he tries to amend. “And Teresa did her best. She was actually inspired by this one thing she saw online that one time. She’s that technical analyst I told you about, who works at the–”

“I’m shutting you up right now,” Connor interrupts, grabbing the man’s face.

“Please do.”

Connor kisses him and pushes him back towards the bed again.

Oliver falls on the bed, but when Connor follows and tries to kiss him again, he puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

“You’re still cleaning up that mess, just so you know.”

Connor laughs and concedes.

He’s just happy that ugly thing won’t be watching him anymore.

* * *

__

_[A small visual of what the piece mentioned in the story looks like. It works better if you imagine someone with no skills whatsoever trying to make a copy of that._ ]


End file.
